The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [11]
I was in the process of explaining this to poor confused Sir Reginald when I was again interrupted. I had been expecting an outburst from Emerson, whose violent temper and command of bad language have won him the affectionate Arabic soubriquet of “Father of Curses.” However, on this occasion the interruption came from Ramses.
“Something told me by Miss Christabel Pankhurst, though without significance to me at the time, tends to substantiate your theory, Mother. Mrs. Markham and her brother did not join the group until after we left London in June. A number of other ‘ladies,’ friends of theirs, became active in the movement at the same time. They must have been the ones who entered the house with her. I was struck, at the time, by the fact that Mrs. Pankhurst did not form part of the delegation.”
“Yes, but . . . but . . .” Sir Reginald stuttered. “All this is unsubstantiated, unproven.”
“The proof,” said my annoying offspring, anticipating me as he usually did, “is in the outcome. The thieves were not ordinary burglars; they were after Mr. Romer’s antiquities, which form one of the finest private collections in the world. The Master Criminal specializes in Egyptian antiquities, and the notion of using a suffragist organization in order to gain entry to the house of a virulent opponent of votes for women is characteristic of Sethos’s sardonic sense of humor.”
“But,” said Sir Reginald, like a broken gramophone record, “but—”
“If it was Sethos you will never catch the bastard,” said Emerson. It was symptomatic of his state of mind that he did not even apologize for bad language—to which, I must confess, we had all become accustomed. He went on, “But I wish you luck. Nothing would please me more than to see him in the dock. We have told you all we know, Sir Reginald. Hadn’t you better get at it instead of lolling around drinking brandy?”
From Manuscript H
Ramses opened the door of his room.
“You knocked?” he inquired in simulated astonishment. “Why this deviation from habit?”
Nefret swept into the room, the full skirts of her negligee trailing like a royal robe, and flung herself down on the bed. “Don’t try to put me on the defensive, Ramses, I will not let you do it. How dare you spy on me?”
Involuntarily Ramses glanced at David, who rolled his eyes and shrugged, indicating that he had no intention of getting involved in the argument.
“An unprovoked and unwarranted accusation,” Ramses said.
His cool response only made Nefret angrier. Color stained her cheeks. “The devil it is! You came sneaking round to the hospital to find out whether I was really there. Well, I wasn’t, was I?”
“Evidently not.”
They glared at one another. David decided it was time to intervene, before one of them said something really rude.
“I am sure Ramses only went by to see whether you wanted to accompany him to the suffragist meeting. Isn’t that right, Ramses?”
Ramses nodded. It was the best he could do; a spoken “yes” would have stuck in his throat.
“You needn’t have brought it up in front of Aunt Amelia and the Professor.”
“You started it.”
“By teasing you about Christabel?” Nefret was never able to stay angry for long. The corners of her mouth quivered.
“You know I don’t give a damn about the damned girl!”
“Oh, dear, what an ungentlemanly thing to say. But she—”
“Don’t begin again,” David exclaimed. He never knew whether to laugh or swear or sympathize when the two of them got into one of these exchanges; Nefret was one of the few people in the world who could make Ramses lose his temper, and David was probably the only person in the world who knew why. Hoping to distract them, he went on, “You came at an opportune moment, Nefret; we were